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Tuesday, September 21, 2010

We returned to our training villages on the afternoon of the Eve of Korité, although no one was actually sure whether or not Korité would be the next day yet. This holiday marks the end of Ramadan and is as big and as much anticipated as Christmas. The Marabou of each Muslim brotherhood* looks to the sky on the 28th day of Ramadan in search of a glimpse of the new moon. This happens at sunset when people are breaking fast, hopefully for the last time. When and if he sees the moon, Korité is declared and is celebrated the next day. Because each brotherhood’s Marabou declares Korité, however, the holiday sometimes falls on different days across Senegal, which apparently happened last year and caused all sorts of confusion and scheduling conflicts throughout the country.

This particular evening, however, the clouds had broken after a raining afternoon and the sky was fairly clear, The streets and rooftops of my neighborhood were crowded with people searching the western sky for a sighting. When they saw a sliver of the moon there was cheering, laughter, and dancing in the streets. The kids acted as if they’d seen Santa Claus flying through the sky, which I guess, in their own way, they had. Immediately thereafter, everyone rushed inside to watch Koranic television with interviews about the sighting and wise words from the Marabous about the end of Ramadan.

After dinner, my 12-yr old brother Cheikh, my 4-yr old sister Bébé Maty, and I rushed to the market to pick up a top that I was having altered for the big occasion. The streets in the village were filled with people out celebrating and the town took on a new carnival-like vibe. I was immediately sorry we’d agreed to take the my little sister because I was afraid we’d lose her in the crowd. The market in Thiès, earlier in the day, had been like this, too. Everyone was out buying last minute things needed to make their holiday more festive, like gaudy hair extensions, shiny new shoes, and live chickens. We made it safely to the tailor’s shop and waited for an hour while he filled the last of his Korité orders. This is the busiest time of year for tailors as everyone--men, women, and little children alike--all get new clothes for the celebration, or so I was told.

Korité (10 Sept 2010)

I slept in the morning of Korité, since it was just the 2nd day since arriving in Senegal that I did not have any classes. When I walked out of my room, I noticed Cheikh in a penned in area in our courtyard talking to his “new pet chickens” that mysteriously arrived the day before.

OK FRIENDS…THIS IS WHERE THE WEAK AT HEART SHOULD TURN AWAY, OR AT LEAST SKIP DOWN TO THE NEXT CAPITALIZED SECTION THAT INDICATES IT’S SAFE TO COME BACK TO READING.

When I arrived back at my host-family’s house yesterday afternoon and noticed the presence of 3 chickens in our courtyard, I knew that they were not our new pets, but likely, very soon our celebratory dinner. Having raised chickens myself, albeit only for eggs, and having seen the many chickens being carried around by their wing-pits for sale in the market the day before, I knew how this story would end. So, as I was headed back to my room from the toilet, I stopped to watch Cheikh as he grabbed his first victim and reminded myself that I am not here in Senegal to change the customs of my hosts (a mantra I often repeat to myself.) The killing was not exactly swift, but well-practiced. Cheikh turn the hen on its side, stepped on it’s feet with one barefoot and it’s wings with the other and hung its head over a hole in the sandy earth he had dug just moments before. Using a very dull knife (this is where the lack of swiftness comes in), he proceeded to cut the chicken’s throat and drain its blood into the hole. As he grabbed the next one, the third chicken high-tailed it out of the pen. Acting instinctively, I threw down the basket of toiletries I was holding and cornered the hen in the courtyard with my skirt to keep it from escaping. Cheikh smiled proudly and came out to fetch his last victim, my dinner.After this, my sister-in-law, Fatou, came out to take over from there. AGAIN, IF YOU WANT TO BAIL OUT HERE, NOW’S YOUR SECOND CHANCE……I sat down next to her and we plucked, gutted, and cleaned chickens for about 2 hours. First, she poured ladles full of hot water over the birds to loosen their feathers. This was fairly effective and I’m sure made the job easier, but it was definitely labor-intensive, regardless. Next, we held the chickens over a propane gas fire to burn off the really small hair-like feathers. Then, using that same dull knife we cut open the carcasses and pulled out the insides. We kept the livers, hearts, and stomachs (emptying these out of course) and through the rest in the bucket with the feathers and now-resident flies. Next, we washed the birds, which I was beginning to fear would not be one of our steps. Fatou stepped away to fetch her bar of soap (the very same one she uses to bath with.). When she returned, she cut off pieces from a plastic mesh rice bag for each of us to use as scrub brushes and we soaped and scrubbed the birds until they were spic and span.

OK. IT’S SAFE FOR ALL TO COME BACK NOW.

preparing the Korite meal

So the big meal of the day on Korité is lunch and we had this lovely chicken dish that I helped prepare. We fried some chicken, and made pommes frites (French fries). We then cut a couple of kilos of onions and marinated them in vinegar, oil, black pepper, and crushed Maggi and Dolci seasoning cubes (a necessary ingredient in all Senegalese dishes). These were sautéed and it was all served together on a big platter and eaten with torn off pieces of baguettes. Greasy, but good (and not Thieboudienne).

Cheikh sportin' his Grand Boubou

While we were cooking, my little brother donned his best grand bou-bou and went to the grande mosque to pray. The rest of the day was kind of lazy, but we had a lot of visitors. All of the men who’d been lounging around for the past month came out of the woodwork and stopped by in their bou-bous to say hello to the family. Apparently, Korité is a holiday for making amends with your friends and neighbors and forgiving any bad blood between them. I’m not sure how much of that went on today, since it was all conducted in Wolof. In the early evening the young kids get dressed up and go door-to-door asking their neighbors for money. So the holiday is kind of like Yom Kippor, Halloween, and Christmas all rolled into one.

The bedroom dinner hosts

So all day long, with the exception of my little brother who had gone to the mosque, everyone was wearing their everyday clothes. The visitors all donned their new threads, but my family was still just hanging out in their regular house-work quality pagnes (wrap skirts). Later in the evening, Fatou and her husband (my uncle) Darou, who were married earlier in the year, got decked out to have some friends over for dinner. Since families all live together, when just one couple wants to entertain, they do this in their bedrooms. So Fatou and Darou had about eight people piled into their modest sized room with a tablecloth spread out on the queen-sized bed. I suspect they were wearing the same clothes they’d been married in.

As the rest of the family sat down on the outdoor mat to eat a meal of left-over beans and bread from the evening before (as I mentioned, lunch is the big Korité meal), my family all encouraged me to go put on the outfit that I’d had made specially made for the occasion. There was a lot of build-up to this at the Peace Corps training center and everyone had had clothes made. Somehow, at this point, with the day almost over, all of the visitors having come and gone, and no one else in the family dressed for the occasion (aside from the entertaining newlyweds tucked away in their rooms), it seemed kind of pointless, so I politely declined and am saving my outfit for the next grand fête.

Site Selection

Just before heading back to our training villages for Korité, we all found out where our permanent site placements will be once we’re sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers in mid-October. As per tradition and despite the rain, we were all blind-folded and placed on a map of Senegal painted on the basketball court. You could hear voices of the people who were standing near you before the blindfolds were removed--that was kind of fun. My site will be the city of Diourbel (pronounced jer-belle) and is a pretty big city (130,000 people) located just an hour and a half’s drive east of Thiès. I’m taking over my site from someone who is signing on for a third year and will be moving to Thiès to work with our Cross-Cultural Coordinator, so she’ll be a nearby resource for me.

Oh where oh where will we go?

Looks like I'm going to Diourbel

The Sunday after Korité, I was able to spend 4 days visiting with her in Diourbel so she could show me the ropes, introduce me to potential work partners and meet my new host family. We just arrived back from there today and I am happy with where I’ll be living and working for the next two years. Because it’s about 3 hours inland from the coast the weather is hotter but I am living in Africa, so I should just suck it up and anticipate being hot for the duration. Rumor has it that the winter months are much more tolerable, so there is some relief. Diourbel is in the peanut basin so the soil is really sandy, as is just about everything I put in my mouth to eat. The fine sand catches the wind and lands on everything so, invariably, you end up eating quite a bit of it.

My new host family is not the conventional Senegalese family, but I’m going to be quite happy there. My host dad, Ibou, is in his early 60s, loves Jazz music and gardening, and will also be my work counter-part. My host mom, Khady, is in her late 40s, is “trés chic et moderne”, and is a fabulous cook. She owns the house where I will live and works part-time for Baol Enviornment, an organization that is also headquartered in the house. Ibou is its President, Khady is its Treasurer. The organization focuses on finding and implementing sustainable, eco-friendly solutions to development and community-minded activities. They collaborate with all of the women’s groups in the Diourbel region to provide training and organizational stability. They also work with micro-financers and local artisans to support environmentally-friendly project work. It should be a cool to work with this group and I look forward to living with Ibou and Khady. Their French is great and they seem like really down-to-earth people.

Ibou is very techie and loves new gadgets (note new camcorder in his hands)

The terrace garden / afternoon lounging area

Khady master of the double-fisted fan

There’s a lot of work already established in Diourbel that I can jump into after I get there and have finished my Peace Corp training. I’m looking forward to working on these and finding some new projects, as well. I’ve already lined up a French tutor so I can continue my language studies. When we return to our training villages this weekend, I’ll be switching to Wolof lessons. Wish me luck!

Fatou N’Diaye - name given to me by my new host mother in Diourbel (freakish since she didn’t know my first host mother had named me Fatou). This is what people will call me in Diourbel. All future mail should include this name as well as my real name since that's what the Post Office will know me as.

Fatou N’Diaye - deceased sister of my host mother in Diourbel

Fatou Baldé - my new supervisor in Diourbel

Fatou Kebe - woman who owns a tailor shop that is interested in some business training

Fatou Mbacke Ngome - woman who owns a small food stand who is interested in some business training

Fatou Kane - Director of a school where I will be teaching basic accounting classes

Thursday, September 9, 2010

In case you’ve all been waiting on the edge of your seat for the aforementioned toilet edition, here it is. First, let’s get the obvious out of the way, going to the bathroom in a third world country is not much fun and yet it’s still a necessary part of everyday life. There are three types of basic toilets in Senegal: 1) the English toilet which, rumor has it, looks much like an American toilet, but is “flushed” using a bucket of water no doubt carried from some far-away water-source (I have yet to see one of these myself, so I’m trusting Peace Corps lore about its existence); 2) the Turkish toilet, which is a porcelain shallow bowl with tread on either side for one’s feet laid flush with the ground and has an elevated plumbed tank used for flushing (this is what we have at our training center in Thiès); and 3) the Senegalese toilet which, depending on where you live has the same shallow porcelain bowl as the Turkish toilet, or a simpler poured concrete version, but without the plumbing. Basically, the latter is an indoor outhouse without an elevated seat and is what I have in my house. The floor is tiled and slants towards the hole to make cleaning the room easier. There is always a bucket of water next to the toilet to use for “flushing” and most people carry a small plastic tea kettle into the room with them for “wiping”; this is where the left hand comes into play. The tea kettle is filled with water and held with the right hand while splashing water on and cleaning yourself with the left. We actually received Peace Corps sanctioned training on this process. I’m still opting to sneak toilet paper into the room with me. Please don’t judge me. It’s one little familiar way of life I’m choosing to hold on to (when I can) and also proves useful in swatting the flies away while I’m in there.

The toilet, in all it's glory.

Peace Corps toilet training.

My Batesville Bathroom.

To put things in perspective, I've added a photo of the bathroom renovation I had done at my home in Batesville just weeks before I left. Ahh! What I'd give for a soak in my clawfoot tub.

Les Douches

Showering in Senegal also proves to be a challenging experience. Basically, we take bucket baths, and because of the heat, we do this several times a day. The “douche” is strikingly similar to the toilet in appearance: basic hole in the ground, surrounded by tile slanted towards the drain, and a bucket of water sitting next to it. My douche also contains a very suspect looking but extremely useful plastic box upon which one can sit while scrubbing up and rinsing off. One bucket of water is generally enough for cleansing, shampooing, and even brushing one’s teeth. I often share my bathing experience with a giant palmetto bug or two. They enjoy rubbing their antennae together and making clicking sounds at me and, on occasion, are curious enough about what goes down the drain to run over, get real close, and check it out.

The shower with it's suspect "seat"

Mon petit voyeur

Fatou and the Bride (on right)

Le Mariage

Okay, so I feel the need to counterbalance this discussion of basic hygiene with a little socio-cultural lesson. Last week, my fellow trainees and I were invited to attend une fête du mariage (a wedding party ) dans le quartier (in our neighborhood ). My fellow trainee, Kelsey ,and I got decked out in our new complets (traditional and colorful two-piece dresses) and were accompanied by our classmates, Chris and Phil who picked us up at Keley’s host-family’s house where lots of pictures were taken, frighteningly reminiscent of prom-night. The bride is a friend of Kelsey’s host-sister and her family had been involved in party preparation for days leading up to the event. The wedding itself took place at the mosque next to my house earlier in the day and neither the bride or groom where present. Apparently, this is common in Muslim weddings. The Marabou and male congregation are joined by the parents of the bride and the parents of the groom to seal the deal and pray for the new couple. Afterwards, a party for the bride is held at the bride’s parents house with only their friends, family, and neighbors. When we arrived, we were introduced by the family as “the American delegation”, which amused us all. The groom was nowhere to be found (also common) and, in fact, is not even due to come pick up his new bride for another two weeks, once Ramadan has ended. The bride’s fête was a quiet affair, no music or dancing (also because of Ramadan) and was centered around having pictures taken with the bride and everyone breaking fast together. We ate dates and beignets (little donut holes), drank coffee and ginger juice, and shared platters of chicken and onions. Large mats where spread out on the sandy soil for all of the attendees (with the exception of the American delegation) to pray together, which was an impressive site. We’ve been invited back to the official reception (where the groom will finally make an appearance) on September 18th. This is when the husband comes to claim his wife and pay “le dot” (his dowry). According to our teacher Sakhir, it can sometimes take a year or more for a husband to gather the money/gifts needed to claim his wife and/or to make proper accommodations at his family’s home for her and, until that time, they live apart. It’s a very rare occasion that a husband doesn’t bring his wife home to live with his family and for their children not to be raised there. Because of this, and because polygamy is legal and common here, Senegalese households can get extremely large, sometimes 30-40 people all living together in a family compound. I’ll save the topic of polygamy for another blog entry.

Shout Outs!

To Babara for a lovely letter. It always brightens my day to know that you are thinking of me.

To Susie for a big honking box of snacks and magazines. These will definitely get me through until the end.

To The O'Neals for sending crafty things for my Girls Club and snacks and notes for me.

To Jeremy for another box of goodies from the barn :-)

To Doug for another book recommendation (and the book to go with it!)

To Maki for trying to send me bourbon (but the mean ole PO wouldn't let her). The other treat (Cheez-Its, Bacon, Odwalla bars, salad dressing mix, and incense) were much appreciated. We'll just have to have that bourbon when I return this summer!

To Susan (again!) for another amazing care package filled with yummy foodstuff, magazines, and treats for my students.

To Susan for faithfully saving me the crossword and sudoku puzzles from Eugene's The Register-Guard almost everyday for the past year (+) and for delicious pork, turkey, and beef jerky, melt-in-your-mouth coconut macaroons, and colored paper for my kids (quite the luxury).

To Doug for the book that finally arrived (I read 50 pages of it before getting home from the post office) AND for the stone-ground South Carolina grits. I'm assuming the customs folks made off with the shrimp ;-)

To John H. for a rockin' box of foodstuff (so yummy!), coffee, local papers, the New Yorker, a book, and news from home.

To Linda for tracking down and sending 3 books on my "want to read" list.

To Fulton for a postcard from Florida and a nice little invitation to France.

A belated shout out to Janelle who sent a package to me at my parent's house while I was home visiting in the fall. I left the beautiful bracelet there for my return and shared the treats with my Girls Club.

To Heather Rae for popping a box in the mail (just before she popped out a baby--CONGRATULATIONS!) which included Hellmann's mayonnaise, Cholula hot sauce, Italian seasoning mixes, Luna bars, and some requested yarn for a sweater I'm knitting. Can't wait to meet little Warren when I return.

To Sandra, Hannah, and Katharina for a package from Germany filled with Buegelperlen beads for my Girls Club and Pfeffernusse cookies and dried sausage for me--yum!

To Jeremy for your continued friendship and correspondence and for sending "nipples" for my hoop project ;-), as well as much appreciated incense, soup mix, granola, and a new book.

To Linda for office supplies, snacks, Sarah Addison Allen's second novel, and for being so supportive.

To Ann, Maggie, and Lisa (my knitting pals) for "The Damn Scarf" yarn and pattern (and for working out all of the frustrating kinks before sending it to me) and to Linda for more cords and accessories for my Denise Kit needles.

To Auntie Jane for a bunch of pens and pencils, CHOCOLATE, and soaps.

To Scott for an amazing "mixed tape" CD complete with liner notes and a accompanying sweet letter.

To Becca and Nate for awesome new music and a rendering of my favorite bird.

To WNRN, for sending my Spring Fundraiser promo CD (Lucinda Williams) all the way to Africa.

To Aunt Patricia for sending some old family photos, including one of me from 1973 in my favorite childhood dress.

To Fulton for the C&O postcard and for splurging on the stamp ;-)

To Susan for an amazing box of goodness. Who new they made single size servings of SPAM??

To Ben for a giant box of cheezy and crunchy snacks!!

To Krista & Anu for a homemade Easter card and a lovely watercolor painting.

To Kathy for a bunch of great magazines, 2 books, yummy chocolate granola treats, and a big bag of roasted soy nut trail mix.

To Sandra for a 3-part German care package full of dry sausages (yum!), Haribo candies, a tube full of delicious mustard, and a photo of her family in the SNOW.

To Mom & Dad for things they noticed I needed while they were here, like little spoons, hot pads, and cups from the airplane to complete my set ;-); also Fritos, Fruit Chips, and an Easter Egg kit.

To Peabody School French Class, Grade 8 for a box of goodies (nail polish, Chex Party Mix, Reeses Pieces, jerky, coffee, soap, headbands, a magazine, and a cool French pencil!)

To My Batesville Buddies who sent a Christmas/Birthday card with an original sound recording.

To Heather P. whose package took a month to get to me, but finally arrived, which gives me great hope for the others that are still out there somewhere: Lemon-ginger tea, hydration drink singles, CHEDDAR potato soup mix, taco & chili seasoning, and a KNITTING project, not to mention the cute family photos.!! Thanks HP!

To Dan & Eloise for a lovely Christmas card and note.

To The Riedsels for a fun picture-filled Christmas card.

To Mary & John for a lovely Christmas card and ornament.

To Mom & Dad for two more packages (you guys ROCK!), one of which included my knitting bag from home.

To Kaitee & Josh for a holiday catch-up letter.

To Kristi, who sent a beautiful handmade necklace and earring set and a chicken feed tote bag. She's so talented!

To Charlie & Leslie some much appreciated body scrub soap and some other treats.

To Carlos, who flattened himself out and came to visit as Flat Carlos. I'll be showing him around town then sending him back to his classmates.

To Bobbi & family, who sent me a slew of spice mixes, dark chocolate M&Ms, Raisinettes, and Kisses, Jello instant pudding mix, beef jerky, Slim Jims, and granola bars, plus a nice birthday card and some letters from the kids.

To Mom & Dad, who sent a Bug Hut for my bed, Slim Jims, Off towelettes, ant repellent, Thanksgiving napkins (I'll save those for next year), and some more of my clothes.

To Kristen, who sent an International calling card that she originally sent to her daughter in Africa last year and it was just returned. She popped it right back in the mail to me.

To Mary, who sent and early B-day card with handmade earrings. So nice to hear from you ;-)

To Rise Up Coffee, who sent me a sample pack of organic coffee and some cool stickers (the owner is a Returned PCV likes to spread the love to those of us still out there)

To Mom & Dad, who sent me TWO packages including an assortment of tea, cookies, underwear, bug repellent, chocolate, a Bville photo montage, fall foliage, and MORE! To Jason/"Red", who sent me new music from his band (Unity the Band) and his friend Sam Winch's new album.

To Krista, who sent yummy dark chocolate, Luna/Cliff bars, the last book she read (yea!), and more Propel (can never get too much of this.)

To Linda & Jack, who I haven't seen in 15 years, but who, nonetheless, sent me a package of Propel water packets, lip gloss!, a good book, and a great catch-up letter.

To Marla, who sent me my first letter! Yeah!

To Mom & Dad, who sent coffee, drink mixes, shampoo, and skin-so-soft to protect me from those evil little mosquitoes.

To Leslie, who spent hours silently emptying and cleaning out my fridge and freezers even after I left the country AND who, with Charlie, is tending to my mail while I’m away. You guys ROCK.